For those of you who missed the
drama because you have lives, and don’t haunt the internet like
friendless ghosts: This week, author and feminist Erica Jong and Rolling
Stone columnist (and BEAST founder) Matt Taibbi got into a
huge mud fight on celebutard watering hole the Huffington Post.

In the name of full disclosure, I have to confess three
things. The first confession I have to make is that I hate Erica Jong.
This is something of a surprise for me, because I had never heard her
name before this week. Erica’s Huffpost biography (which is intended
to be a short blurb) extends for a page-and-a-half as she breathlessly
strains to convince us she’s worth the $13 her pretentious, pseudo-intellectual
mob shelled out for her latest hardcover, Sappho’s Leap.

Sappho’s Leap is an odyssey about the
greatest female lyric poet of all time, set in ancient Greece. I’ll
stop there because I need my readers to remain conscious to read the rest
of my article.

The second confession is that I blog for Huffington Post.
The cool thing about Huffpost (other than being able to read Alec Baldwin’s
latest musings) is that none of the bloggers are paid, so no one is afraid
to write exactly what they’re feeling out of fear of being censored
or fired. In that way, Huffpost is a bigger proponent for free speech
and democratic discussion than most major newspapers. But sometimes, as
a result of unfiltered opinions, the discussions dissolve into the internet
version of titty twisters and wet willies.

My third confession is that I don’t think Taibbi
went far enough in denouncing Jong as a hack and a feminist fraud. I think
men censor themselves when critiquing insanity masquerading as feminine
progressivism precisely because they’re afraid of being called chauvinistic.
I refuse to censor myself because of this fossilized twat. I believe she
and everyone like her are destructive, corrosive cancers within feminism.
And so I declare open season on Erica Jong.

And I’m going to use a lot of naughty language.
For example, I'm going to use the word cunt. A lot. Probably when I don’t
even need to use it. I’m going to use it because Eric Jong is
a cunt—a huge fucking cunt. If this bothers you, stop reading now.

Thus, I bring you a recap of the Jong-Taibbi 2008
You Fuck Your Mother Battle Royale.

In
one corner, we have Erica “Liberal Feminist Cunt” Jong, hailing
from Weston, Connecticut. Her hair bleached into a brittle blonde scream,
Erica cakes enough make-up across her withered face to smother every last
betraying wrinkle. This feisty feminist protests “The Man”
and his demands that she remain eternally youthful and pleasing to his
eyes by painting her grizzled visage like a deranged, slutty clown.

And in the other corner, we have Matt “Fucking
Fuck Fuck Hillary Clinton has Flabby Arms” Taibbi. He’s the
journalist, who will look perpetually confused and a little pissed off
through the remainder of this brawl as he keeps his hand pressed to Jong’s
brow, and holds her at arm’s distance while she snarls and claws
at the air.

The stage was set for disaster when Jong responded to
Taibbi’s
piece in Rolling Stone wherein he described a campaign victory
scene thusly: “Hillmeister doing the dual flabby-arm raise on CNN,
while gusts of confetti whooshed across the room…”

Outraged, but still capable of pulling herself together
long enough to alliterate and regurgitate obscure references, reminding
us all she is the proud carrier of a library card, Jong responded with
“Misogyny,
Momism, and Militarism,” in which she accused Taibbi of hating
women and wanting to fuck his mother.

Erica seems like an intelligent lady, although I base
that assumption on the facts that she likes Greek history and her Huffington
Post blog lacks any noticeable typos. However, that amount of research
I put into her presumably breathtaking personal history is still about
five more minutes of journalistic grunt work than she put into learning
anything about Taibbi. First, she calls Matt “Mike,” mistaking
him for his father, the NBC journalist.

Then, she goes on to quote the flabby-armed line in such
an out-of-context way that I assume one of her cunty Cosmopolitan-swigging
cohorts must have emailed it to her with the caps-locked subject: “A
MAN IS DISRESPECTING SOMEONE WITH A VAGINA!!! ATTACK!!!!!”

In some of the most insane psychological and intellectual
contortionism I have ever witnessed, Jong cites such random cultural personalities
as Elton John – truly a staple in the world of feminist research
- to “prove” her point that Taibbi suffers from “Momism.”

Momism is an APA-classified (I’m kidding) disorder
where the patient suffers from an Oedipal obsession with his bad mother
to counter his attraction to his good mother. In other words, Jong argues,
Matt Taibbi clearly wrote an unfavorable description of Hillary Clinton
because he wants to fuck his mother.

“Virtually neckless, all shoulders and forehead
and overbite, with a hunched-over, Draculoid posture that recalls, oddly
enough, George W. Bush, the vestigial stoop of a once-chubby kid who grew
up hiding tittie [sic] pictures from nuns.”

And also as “The electoral incarnation of Tommy
Lee Jones' acid-bath-surviving Two-Face character." And a “Bottomless
pit of vengeful little-guy ambition.”

And just to prove the point that he holds nothing personally
against Mrs. Clinton, Taibbi introduced his litany of “Back-the-fuck-off-me-you-fucking-bitch”
examples to Ms. Jong, or as he called her, “the eight hundred-year-old
sex novelist.”

“Eight-Hundred-Year-Old
Jong Responds to Callow Youth Taibbi” was the catchy title of
Jong’s response piece. At this point, the Huffpost blog world began
to buzz in the same way a playground vibrates when the two kids that have
been giving each other the stink-eye all year finally meet for a showdown
by the seesaw. Shit was going down.

For his flabby-arm comment, Jong calls Taibbi a “bully,”
“ignorant,” and “insecure,” proving that while
some name-calling is unacceptable, it’s perfectly acceptable to
name-call if you claim to be an intellectual and don’t swear.

Due to an inordinate amount of hate-filled replies and
confused inquiries, Erica had to change her weak argument. She looked
like an old, out-of-touch schoolmarm, chastising a pupil for using bad
language, so it was time to switch the focus of her argument.

I knew Jong would realize she’d fucked up and insulted
a popular countercultural critic. However, I wasn’t braced for where
Jong went next.

In the same unsubstantiated outburst, the old cunt compared
Taibbi to the Nazis, who famously circulated caricatures of the Jews in
order to inflate negative stereotypes right before “the Incident.”

Yes, Erica, that’s exactly what Matt Taibbi
using the phrase “flabby-arm” is like. It’s exactly
like the time when the Nazis tried to systematically destroy an entire
race of people. Isn’t that how genocide goes? First, someone says
Hillary Clinton has flabby arms, and then—BAM!—six million
Jews are dead. You stupid fucking bitch.

Suddenly, this wasn’t a personal disagreement between
two bloggers. Now, Jong is doing this in the name of freedom! She’s
battling forces of pure evil, people! She’s selflessly hawking her
book in the name of equality and feminist rights (and defending her own
frail ego)!

Taibbi informed the internet that he is not, in fact,
a Nazi in the next and last piece: “Erica
Jong Rolls Out Every Liberal Cliché in Existence.” He
cackles for a few paragraphs over being compared to the Nazis, “Who
banned the ingenious, idea-rich works of Sigmund Freud – who just
happens to be the poor dead sap whose theories Jong herself was wantonly
bastardizing in her original post about me.”

Taibbi then rightly pointed out that Jong shielded herself
with the Jew Defense (my words, not his) when the disagreement got a little
heated. The Jew Defense is what occurs when two people are engaged in
a debate and one party screams, “YOU ARE JUST LIKE HITLER!! THIS
IS JUST LIKE NAZI GERMANY!!” and the other person is too stunned
to reply. End.

It’s one hell of a cheap shot for an intellectual
to take, especially someone who spent two lengthy posts convincing her
readers that ideas are all that matter, and not commonplace rhetoric.
Discovering she had nowhere to run, Jong pointed a bony finger Taibbi’s
way and screeched, “JEW KILLER!” as loud as she could muster.

Weak, Erica. Very weak.

Unfortunately for Jong, Taibbi wasn’t stunned.
He was amused, but he wasn’t too stunned to rip her a new one and
prove that she is just another humorless, frosty sophist who tries to
pass off trashy romance novels as epic historical narratives.

Jong makes me ashamed to tell people I’m a feminist.
I know the unsavory “feminist-type” ignorant parties conjure
in their brains looks exactly like Jong, who grew up on Manhattan’s
Upper West side with Bohemian “Run Free, Our Beautiful Baby Bird”
musician and artist parents.

These are the kind of people who vacation in the Catskills
and faint if someone tells a dick joke. They’re all about truth,
freedom, and beauty, until you violate their sacred ideologies. Then they
rely on their own air of self-importance and a couple twenty-dollar polysyllabic
words to convince their audience that they’re true cultural magistrates.

Let me break this down in the spirit of keepin’
it real: These people are full of shit.

The Jong-type is the reason men, and some women, picture
feminists as bald, scowling asexual buzzkills who emerge from Vermont
for the dual purposes of censoring statements that make them uncomfortable
and sucking the laughter out of any room they enter. Mind you, they do
this while claiming to be proponents of freedom, democracy, and other
happy rhetoric they espouse and then later crush beneath their iron fist
of femininity.

More than just an unfunny elitist, Erica Jong seems to
harbor a deep, personal resentment for being born a woman, which flies
in the face of the whole “Love your pussy, girl!” movement.

This excerpt is from her official biography at www.ericajong.com:

“Tillie Olsen once observed how ‘fortunate
are those of us who are daughters born into knowledgeable, ambitious families
where no sons are born.’ Jong was such a daughter. Her mother’s
stifled creativity and feminist rage, and her father’s need for
Erica ‘to be his son,’ combined to make a ‘potent brew’
that fueled Erica’s drive and ambition. ‘The ingredients were
just right to make a girl who thought she was allowed to be a boy. But
who also had to punish herself for this presumption.’ ”

Who wants to fuck whose parent, exactly? The way Jong
lashed out at Taibbi makes me wonder how many nights a hysterically sobbing
Jong furiously chafed her clitoris as she cried her daddy’s name
and begged for his love and mercy.

Erica, read these next lines very carefully (twice):
Daddy never loved you. He never respected you. Because you’re a
girl. Because you have a vagina. Get over it and stop censoring everyone
else because you’ll never have his love.

Not all men hate women. Not all men are your ignorant
father. Some of us had loving, supportive dads, who loved us unconditionally,
and not in spite of our gender. Not all men operate under the modus operandi:
Keep the Bitch Down.

There are good guys, who are on the good side of the
fight.

Perhaps the most alarming assumption Jong made (in my
opinion) came when she banged out this musing: “So what is wrong
with American men? Particularly male journalists.”

Excuse me? Is this what the feminist argument has come
to? Now, we’re going to devote our hours to berating journalists
because they unfavorably describe politicians, one of whom incidentally
happens to be a female?

My problem with feminists like Jong is that they claim
to want to transcend gender definitions, but then define the universe
with “penis” and “vagina” labels. They bray about
equality and humanity, but then hammer the chisel at the first chance,
fractioning the progressive movement into increasingly isolated sects.

They dress up sloppy “Yo Mama” jokes as intellectual
critique.

Such elitism results in shoving away a journalist and
his entire following– a journalist, who has never indicated that
he’s sexist – from a movement that might have otherwise encompassed
a larger base, including the rough-and-tumble boys and girls who say “fuck”
and “shit” a lot.